A New Haircut
by snowglobe3
Summary: Viktor felt more like himself after the haircut. A quick one-shot about gender transition written by someone with absolutely no experience in the matter.


He felt a literal weight off of his shoulders when the long curtain of silver hair felt away, excitedly looking in the mirror and noticing how right it looked, how reassuring it felt, to have his hair this way. His coach could yell at him all he wanted, but Viktor wasn't able to keep hiding so much anymore. He had hated looking at himself before a competition with rouge and lipstick and the long, flowing hair, noting absently that he looked beautiful but not at all how he wanted to look.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth when he had to explain to the press why he had cut off his hair, or the fact that his new costume had pants instead of the tiny dresses that most of the skaters who competed in the female division wore.

"My hair was so long that I decided it was time for a change!" He tried his best to smile for the cameras. "And with my hair so short I decided to make my program more masculine in nature. You know me, I live to surprise my audience!"

It hurt him that he had to keep pretending.

With his new haircut, the press grew more and more invasive. He had always been outgoing and flirtatious, but now his every move was analyzed.

"Is famous skater Viktoriya Nikiforova a lesbian?" one headline boldly asked him as he scrolled through social media, showing a picture of him winking at a fellow competitor. He gave a half-smile.

It would be so nice to tell them that Viktoriya Nikiforova wasn't anything at all, that that person didn't really exist, and that Viktor was pretty sure that he was straight. Not that it mattered who he would fall in love with, because he was currently involved in a life-long affair with the ice. The joy of skating and victory was tempered with the pain of hiding who he really was. As he grew older and kept winning, the idea of sharing his true self with the world grew scarier, especially because of the attitude about people like him in his home country. It was simultaneously his biggest dream and his biggest fear, to finally be himself everywhere instead of only hidden away.

Yakov looked at him stonily when Viktor had finally gathered the courage to tell his coach the truth. The older man hardly looked surprised by this revelation, simply staring at his skater impassively.

"Time to warm up," the old man barked at him. The gruff nature of his coach reassured him that Yakov wasn't going to treat him any differently.

It wasn't until the next day when his coach referred to him by his preferred name, but the happiness that Viktor felt at this negated the critique that was being delivered.

"Viktor, your spin was so sloppy, you need to make sure that…"

The older man looked shocked at the hug he received from his student, enough so that he stopped yelling, which was more surprising to the skaters at the rink than the fact that Viktor was hugging the coach.

The press was shocked by the announcement of his retirement. And to be fair, his own coach hadn't really understood it either. Why would he just walk away from the spotlight and all of the successes and victories? He had won the Grand Prix five times, gotten an Olympic gold, and hadn't gotten anything less than silver in the last eight years of his career.

The press was even more surprised by the other announcement that Viktor made, posted casually to his instagram. His bio now told his fans that his name was Viktor. He turned off his phone as a flood of messages came in. Other skaters at the rink who were very supportive (and unsurprised). Thousands of comments on instagram. Inquiries from the press. He snuck outside for a walk with Maccachin.

Later that night, he did what he had sworn he wouldn't do, looking at what people had written to tell him. As he had expected, the comments were filled with disbelief, both at what he had shared and at the idea that fans had missed it for so long. And they were rude, cruel, and filled with slurs. He told himself that they didn't matter, but he knew it was a lie. Those words still hurt, as he had known they would.

But the pain that they caused was nothing compared to the relief he felt at finally being himself wherever he went.


End file.
